


Omelas 6 (NO. 6)

by rizzie



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: :), BTS is the reason I live, But no, I'm a rude person and stole a storyline for my own fandom oh god I'm such a bad person, I'm such a not creative person, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, and you do too, but i have BTS, i should just kill myself, i'll just suffer here on earth like the rest of you, im not, mangabased, read no.6 and you'll be impressed, so we'll all be okay, this story is supposed to be practice, yoonmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2018-10-08 15:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizzie/pseuds/rizzie
Summary: Park Jimin is a sheltered elite of the upperclass in Ceras, the top-class residential area that is only open to special elite citizens. When tested for intellect, he scores top of his class and is granted a spot in the future of his country, Omelas. But when he meets Suga, a fugitive from the South Block with a VC planted inside of him, his whole world is suddenly turned upside down. His upcoming status is revoked and he becomes suspicious that Omelas isn't the perfect society it is said to be.[storyline based off of Asano Atsuko's NO.6]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'm riz, and this is my first story on AO3. I hope you enjoy it with all your heart like I did writing this story.
> 
> This story doesn't really go off of the theme of Omelas with one person suffering while all the others live in peace; no. There are some parts that do have interwoven concepts of suffering and "Those That Walked Away", as in the original short by Guin. The South Block symbolizes South Korea and its freedom, while Omelas 6 is north of South Block, building off of the concept of North Korean isolation.
> 
> I feel that the song that could best describe this story is Jimin's single "Lie" from the album "WINGS". There are parts in there that shows Jimin's struggles with getting ensnared in false "lies", and in this story, the lie is Omelas(WOW DID I JUST FORMULATE ANOTHER THEORY THAT THE SINGLES FROM WINGS HAVE A CONNECTION TO YNWA WUTTT). Before he finds redemption in Jimin, in this story Yoongi is the one "caught in a lie" and desperately needs to escape. I suggest listening to Lie after the story is finished, and I hope the song will touch your heart as it did mine.

"Ugh."

The air itself was foggy and damp, and the place I was headed for was even more so. Brown earth packed the area to the left and right, below me and above me.

Trapped in an everlasting underground road with only one exit and one entrance.

My roughened feet left dark red pools of blood in its wake, disturbing the natural scents of the dark tunnel with a metallic tang that would mingle in the air and slowly but surely dissipitate as insects took to that delicious smell and returned for more. Oxygen levels were low here. I had to keep moving.

I walked down that despicable tunnel with slow and distraught steps, breath escaping my wounded body in heavy pants. The pain wracked my shoulder in long sharp bursts of anguish, and I draped my arm across the wound in an attempt to keep it still. The sudden action caused fresh liquid to poor out of the temporary blockage of clotted blood that had attached itself to the opening of the large gap. A steady stream of blood ran into my hand and down my arm. I groaned. My mind was muddy. I couldn't think straight, let alone try to fight my way throught this mess. It was like someone had tried to drug me with cig smoke and booze but had flicked my pain tolerance down a couple knotches. 

So tired.

My eyes closed in retaliation to the physical trauma I was putting my body through. My breathing was starting to roughen, forming white puffs of carbon dioxide that hung in the air and made breathing much more worse. I thought of the softest bed I could imagine. Even that took quite the effort, for my mind wanted to stay in that blank state of a corpse without a brain forever. I couldn't even remember the last time I slept on a clean bed with no worries. Maybe as a child, perhaps? Who knows. All my memories seemed to have escaped me for now.

So cold.

Had someone thrown an ice bucket at me? I couldn't feel anything. Just numbness, except for the areas where my blood was pouring out in spurts every time I took a step. My black hair felt white and stiff, like that of an old man's. I knew it was still a luscious black though. Or maybe it wasn't. I couldn't make out anything in this darkness at all. Maybe I had gotten bitted by some parasite or something that would cause me to age quickly and die a quick death. But if I dropped right here, who know when the next person would travel this wretched tunnel and find me? They probably wouldn't even notice me in the shrouding darkness.

So painful.

The light sound of my blood dripping onto the packed dirt below never forgot to remind me even once of the hurt I was feeling. The cold, I guess, could chase it away. My grey cloak was probably encrusted in dried blood by now. I had probably lost four pints of blood during my trek in the great wilderness.

I missed a step, tripping over my own two feet. I had placed the bloodied hand that had rested on my shoulder onto the ground. I could barely move...

...even so, I had already decided to live. I still had a purpose to fulfill, a purpose only I could complete, for the ones before me were gone.  
I saw a blinding white light in front of me. Just a pinprick, but enough fo me to stutter on. The light eventually grew as the minutes passed. Who knew how long I was in that thing?

But there was only one more thing I could do.

I could only continue ahead, looking for a fulfilling future.


	2. 1- The Boy with the Silver Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi umm I forgot to update this chapter I wrote a year ago and I finished junior year of high school!! I sort of had to take a break from my own creative pursuits because the toil of all AP classes plus marching band really gets to you, so I've been recuperating. Hopefully I'll be able to update more, now that I have more time on my hands. Thanks for the love!

"Jimin!"

A dark brown-haired boy was settled lightly on his bed, face smushed to the window. The glass fogged as his breath hit the air, and he used a hand to wipe away the traces of his inquisite boredom. He wore an oversized collared white sweater with a light blue vest thrown over it and buttoned all the way up. Baggy black jeans adorned his legs in a child-like fashion, and no shoes were present on his feet. He looked up at the sound of his name emphasized through a small intercom with a woman's face, similar to that of the child's, on it.

"Don't open the window, a typhoon is coming!"

The woman's mouth on the livefeed screen matched that of the words said aloud although a couple milliseconds late. The boy brushed the curtains lightly as he hopped off the bed.

"Got it, Mom."

"Is that so? Good." The face on the screen disappeared.

After Jimin had taken the intelligence survey when he was two years old, he was ranked at the top. Within the exclusive location in Omelas called Ceras, he lived a carefree life with his mother for as long as he had remembered. Nature, animals, and even people are taken care of here. The best education is given to each civilian in Ceras as well as their own large area to inhabit. Probability of accidental death is close to zero and everyone lives till an old age. As long as order was kept, everyone was safe.

Everybody lived in a calm and secure world.

But a secure world was too boring for Jimin. He always had a craving for more, to act out a bit more, to understand more. But something had always held him back. Staying obedient to the government was his expertise. Pledging his loyalty to Omelas everyday reminded him of how safe and secure the city was and how much he wanted to give back.

But today, he planned to break the rules a bit. It was a typhoon. A little curiosity wouldn't hurt the cat, anyways. Just a lot of it would.

He walked over to the sliding glass doors adjacent to his bed. Throwing the heavy cream curtains aside, he looked awestruck at the angry grey clouds shooting bullets of rain at the house. Trees outside were a massive sea of fish, tossing and turning as the piercing wind directed them to. The sudden vibrations Jimin felt as he touched his warm nose to the cold glass made him shiver instinctually, eyes sparkling a the sight.

"This is the best birthday present I could ever have." Jimin sighed softly, looking at the pandemonium of chaos below. "It shouldn't be a problem if I open it just a little..." His small hand grasped at the divider adjoining the two massive doors together, fumbling a bit. The glass doors tore open with a bang, and the wind and rain rushed in together as a couple. They tousled Jimin's hair playfully as he brought his arms up to shield his face, his dark red eyes alight with delight. The wind howled louder, as if it were in a war with the rain. The rain, in reply, pounded louder on the rooftops of houses. The nature outside was a crowd of crazy dancers, flowers and trees in a frenzy as they bobbed to the wind and rain's constant play. Jimin stepped out on the balcony of his room. He was already soaking wet. There was no backing down now.

All the emotions Jimin had suppressed inside of him came roaring out in the moment. His humane emotions, he guessed. Omelas had always taught him to push them away, to ignore them. But right now, Jimin was overwhelmed with the urge to do something, anything. So he threw his arms out in a welcoming hug to the wind and rain. They beat upon his small sheltered body, an unstoppable force. Jimin opened his mouth. He tasted the pure rainwater immediately enter in, full bursts of air accompanying it.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The wind moaned in appreciation. The rain chattered. The scenery outside obscured with darkness.

But another voice.

**Break it!**

_Break what?_ Jimin gulped.

**Everything.**

_Everything?_

The voice was swepted away by the monotonous beeping of the alarm signaling that the windows were open in a time of crisis. Jimin jolted awake to reality. What was that?

"Environment Management System: Activating." A tinny sound alerted Jimin. If he didn't shut off the system, the windows would close. He didn't want that. Jimin quickly swept over to the alarm panel opposite of the glass doors, touching it lightly but not light enough that it wouldn't scan for finger identification. The annoying beeping sound stopped. He sighed. It should be alright now.

Without the loud alarm sounding, Jimin could hear something that was hidden underneath the beeps. The soft brush of clothing against curtains. A smirk. How could he hear a smirk?

Jimin quickly turned around, maroon eyes flashing in momentary surprise. The peach-cream curtains hid his sight for a moment when they whipped across the open doors. Another child, covered in blood and water, stood brilliantly in the doorway. A sarcastic smile adorned his face, long midnight black hair covering his eyes. All he wore was a dirty white long sleeved shirt that covered his whole entire body up to his knees. The sleeves were rolled up to prevent blockage to the arms. His left shoulder was mauled with gore, dark red blood dripping down his arm to his hand. Jimin stretched out his own clean hand as if trying to imagine the intense blood trickling down his own fingers. Jimin's wavery voice finally revealed itself.

"Blood – " In a flash, the boy disappeared from his sight. Where did he go?

A hand larger than his shot to his neck before Jimin could react. In two quick motions, the boy had pinned him on the wall. Jimin's feet dangled in the air, his own two hands useless, immobilized in shock.

Then his instinctual actions started to kick in. He couldn't breathe. He was choking. Was this the end of his life? A whole twelve years, all gone down the drain?

Jimin brought his hands weakly to hold the wrist of his offender. If he didn't get air soon, he was pretty sure he was going to die. Jimin pawed uselessly at the hand that was holding him hostage.

" _Don't move_."

Jimin could the other child's face clearly now that it was right in front of him. A pale sharp face with a rounded jawline, black hair so long it made the other look like he was of the opposite gender, and a rebellious chin. His lower lip folded out in a natural pout. Thick, furrowed eyebrows, and... grey-coloured eyes? He'd never seen that colour before...

He gulped for air. He knew his face was probably as red as a tomato now. Ever since he was young, he would blush easily for the randomest reasons and blood would rush to his face before he could help it. Jimin's offender slightly loosened his grip on him and he panted, swallowing the air in large gulps. His coloring calmed down and his mind came back to him again. He stared at the dark blood against the other boy's skin.

"Why don't I bandage you?" Jimin asked softly. His voice was raspy, but he dared not clear it in fear of what the other would do. The black haired child looked at him, startled. "Aren't you...hah...hurt?"

The hand that held Jimin was strong, and the silver, ashy eyes that stared at him did not waver. And yet... Jimin felt something stirring inside of him. He restated his offer as a statement.

"I'll bandage you." Jimin was still panting, vision going slightly blurry. The chokehold that captured his neck suddenly slacked, but the arm that held his body in place stayed still. A few slow moments passed.

The bloody child smirked. "Bandage... _heh_ , whaddya know?"

Jimin didn't move as the other child regarded him carefully with his smoldering cinder eyes. He seemed to be trying to guess if Jimin was a threat or not and was confused to why Jimin would bandage him up.

"Jimin!"

Both children were startled as a feminine voice spoke through the intercom. It was Jimin's mom. The children stayed silent until the adult continued. "You opened the window, didn't you?"

Jimin felt the blood rushing back to his body and restoring his voice. Should he tell? Or should he stay quiet? His mom only asked about the window, though. He turned his head slightly so that he could speak clearly through the panel beside him. "The window? Ah, yeah, I opened it." A direct violation to the order his mother had given him moments earlier. Oh well. His mother knew he was a good kid. The best, actually. He could hear his mother sigh through the intercom. "That won't do, you'll catch a cold."

Jimin quickly answered. "It's okay, I've got it." He heard his mother let out a deep breath again, static blurring the sound. "Even though you're twelve today, you still behave like a child."

Oh, the irony of it. Here he was, trapped under an unknown person's strong grip, yet he was calmly answering his mother's questions as if he wasn't in the slightest danger at all. He ought to report this incident, but that wouldn't do. He's gotten so far already.

"Get ready to eat dinner, Jimin."

And with that, the fuzzy voice that projected from the intercom was gone. Jimin could feel the other child's cold silver gaze before he was released suddenly. Jimin brought a hand up to his neck. He had almost died, but it looked like the tables were turned now. As Jimin felt the other's grasp leave him, he saw a mass of black hair falling don across his vision. The black-haired child had collapsed on the floor, clutching his bloodied shoulder as soft moans erupted from his body. In fact, his whole being was shaking now- red, thick liquid still pouring from his fresh wounds. Jimin remembered the large hand that had held him captive moments before. It had been deathly cold, like he was being strangled with a block of dry ice.

Jimin scrambled to get the first-aid box hidden underneath the bed and made his way to the other. The boy had closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed with pain but otherwise not showing it. He took a couple deep breaths, long midnight hair blowing out of his face due to the makeshift wind projecting out of his chapped lips. He didn't move when Jimin edged closer to him to check on his wound. Jimin found his eyes falling upon a gaping injury, flesh and muscle gone and replaced by the everpresent blood that was slowly dripping on the carpeted floor now. That was going to stain. Oh well, Jimin thought. The grey cloth around the shoulder area was torn apart to shreds, and any stray piece of cloth that was daring enough to settle close to the wound was soaked up with drying brown blood and an underlying redness, a stark contrast to the greying shirt. The pale fingers that held the wracked shoulder seemed frail, although Jimin knew from experience that they weren't.

Jimin spoke in a quiet voice. "This..."

As Jimin neared the boy, he drew his eyes closer to the wound, examining its shape and size. He had only read about these kinds of wounds before in his biology and first aid classes. He had probably never even been close to an individual who was suffering from physical pain, so he could only guess.

"I-s-is... that a bullet wound?"

There. It was out. He just hoped he wasn't correct.

The other's voice came out in a rough gravel. "Yeah. I was grazed by it."

Suprise didn't even cover what Jimin felt at the moment. Neither did astonishment. But maybe an emotion close to panicked shock rung true in Jimin's ears when he felt the other boy affirm his plausible accusations.

"No way!" Jimin said in a shout-whisper. "You mean there are people using guns in Omelas 6?"

The boy chuckled, shifting his steady grip on his shoulder. A stream of blood ran in between his thumb and forefinger, trickling down maliciously. His deep voice was laced with something distant, as if quoting from someone from his past.

"There are the _hunters_ , and so then there are those that are the _hunted_. Like a snake and its prey. You may tell prey to not be prey, but in the end they get chased down anyways. The snake gets what it wants because it's so smooth and stealthy. But, sometimes, that mouse gets away by a hair, and it swears to grow stronger to avoid that snake."

Jimin looked at the boy, who had now settled down at the bottom of his bed with a slouch that could rival that of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Jimin didn't understand. Snakes? He'd seen a couple green friendly ones at the park sometimes, and they didn't seem harmful at all. And prey? Mice? Jimin thought that snakes only ate the insects that liked to crawl on the ground in the grassy areas. Jimin loved to play with the small critters as a kid; transferring them to different plants and trees for fun. They would always seem a little disoriented of their surroundings when placed on a different leaf but would always carry on with what bugs did best: running around on their tiny legs getting nowhere. Jimin faced the sighing boy, his eyes closed, one arm propping his body up while his battered legs stretched out in front of him lazily. He opened the first-aid box and proceeded to take some items out. The boy in front of him seemed to have spaced out, his head now resting at the edge of Jimin's bed, eyes shut in reminiscence.

Jimin spoke out, his voice clear. "Sorry, what did you say? I don't understand." Might as well say the truth than offer a polite head nod, which Jimin could see would probably aggravate his guest more than soothe him.

"Right," the boy muttered softly to himself. He slowly dragged his drooping eyes up to Jimin. "It's better if you don't know. Instead, this could– what the hell are you doing?!"

Jimin had stood halfway up on his knees while the other was talking, inserting the liquid packet of anesthesia into a syringe he sanitized twice just in case, although the needle had probably never been used before. He filled the syringe up to the desired amount needed to effectively numb the area(as he had learned in first-aid) and experimentally pressed down lightly on the trigger when the other boy finally looked up to see his actions. Jimin looked unfazed, shuffling closer to the panicked boy as he tried to back further in to the foot of the bed.

"I'm applying anesthesia to the area," was Jimin's simple answer as he leaned in. The other was now clutching his arm tightly, moving his injured limb away from the needle that was closing in at a fast rate. _"Wait a minute!_ Whaddya need that for?"

Jimin's reply was immediate. "I'm giving you stitches."

 _"Stitches?!"_ The boy's voice seemed to slightly pitch up, a tremor of shocked fear passing through his vocal chords. "You have experience in stitching?"

Jimin lightened up drastically at this more personal question. Well, at least the most personal that had had since his guest arrived. "I know the basics of stitching wounds."

The other individual stared at him, horrified. "Even if you're one of those genius _bastards_ at Ceras, I don't want to be your impromptu test subject!"

"Then what do you want to do?" Jimin lowered his hand, syringe with needle facing up to avoid any leakage of the anesthesia. The boy glanced down at his own tattered shirt while Jimin waited for an answer. A couple moments passed like this until the other let out a large huff, turning his unruly head of hair away from Jimin.

 _"Tch."_ The boy took a breath through his teeth, a sound that one might make when in pain – which of course, he certainly was. But this kind of intake was one of resignation. Jimin broke the silence that fell like a plague. "What is it?"

 

The boy took a good look at Jimin's face. Wide, unassuming eyes that made him look like a deer caught in the headlights – except a sinful color of light maroon rather than a murky brown that made its way across and around his dilated pupils. A nose that had no other explanation but the fact that it was button, lips a curvy line that lead down to a strong jawline that was muted by extra baby fat on and along the cheeks and neck. A head of fluffy brown locks that looked like a nest of feathers. His voice was like a clear bright stream that ran a path by itself in a dark forest, devoid of all negative emotion or connotation that was usually held in most voices the boy had conversed with in his past. This so-called _"Jimin",_ as the voice in the intercom had stated; an innocent baby in a land of thieves, unassuming to every and all dangers that he would probably never cross in his life.

The boy propped one knee up and rested his elbow on it, the palm of his hand cradling his jawline while Jimin located a safe place to set the needle and plunge it in. The neckline of the large shirt that adorned his body had drooped over one shoulder – the maimed one – and revealed pale white skin underneath after the anesthesia had been administered. He was still staring at Jimin, eyes never leaving his frame.

"You're kinda weird." The boy said this in a casual tone that meant no offense. Jimin tilted his head to the side, looking more like a kicked puppy as he drew his legs to a safe kneeling position, hands placed on knees after he had set the empty syringe down.

"Why?"

The boy didn't reveal any emotions as his voice spilled out in a blurred slur. "You didn't ask me my name."

Jimin's eyes got wider, if possible, at his obvious blunder. He shifted a little at his spot on the floor uneasily. "Ah! Right, I'm Park Jimin, what about you?"

The boy reached up to scratch at the black mass of slightly curly hair, never breaking eye contact once with Jimin. He did this motion while still hunched over with the poorest posture Jimin had ever seen in his entire life. Even his friend's grandmother's back looked ramrod straight in comparison to this guy.

"Suga."

Jimin had spaced out on accident, instantly captivated by the other's hard eyes. What did he say again? Sugar? Soo _-Gar?_ Well, why not ask, like he was already doing.

"What?"

"My name." The boy had resumed his hearty head-scratching routine. "Suga."

Jimin felt himself getting lost in Suga's darkened, dull eyes yet again. It felt weird, somehow – the mysterious state of emotion that was supposed to be revealed though an individual's eyes was devoid in this person, like he had slammed walls around himself.

His pupils should be more shiny, Jimin thought. Like the moonlight at night...

Jimin's face immediately flushed, startled by his own mundane thoughts about the other. He mentally slapped himself on his cheeks. Why was he talking like a poet? He never acted this way about any other human being, not even to his own mother, who he loved dearly. Maybe it was the smell of anesthetic and blood that was getting to him.

"I'll start the sewing!" Jimin announced a bit too brightly, still flustered by his own self. He rolled his long flowing sleeves up so that they stopped right below his elbow, sanitizing his own hands with a disposable wipe before lightly grabbing the needle and thread. His tongue stuck out a bit in concentration while struggling to insert the small line of fiber through the miniscule hole of the needle, earning a lopsided smirk from the other. Jimin shuffled closer to Suga and placed his hand on the torn cloth half covering the wound and pulled it down gently, revealing the clean open cut that would soon be closed.

Suga felt Jimin's small fingers lightly resting on his skin and a shot of fire raced through his chest. He didn't remember how long he had went without human touch, much less someone of his own age. All the old men that handled him like a bag of trash never caressed him so gently like this brown-haired child that sat innocently in front of him, unknowing of his wrongdoings yet wanting to help him, this stranger, so badly. Suga barely felt a pinch when Jimin inserted the needle into his wrecked shoulder. He could see Jimin’s wide eyes narrowed in concentration, eyebrows furrowed and hands steady with experience. Something about Jimin calmed Suga in a way that no other had. Maybe it was the lifestyle the other had been living in; a safe house with warm food always ready on a clean table, a nice room all to himself, good education. But Suga felt that it was more of Jimin’s original nature that made him like that rather than nurture. He’d seen many a rich child when he was there. They stared at him like he was worthless; a dog without an owner that licked beggar’s feet. But even when Suga had invaded Jimin’s room, Jimin had only looked at him with concern and support, not pity and listless anger.

“Stitching complete!” Jimin said with a smile. His eyes formed moon-like crescents, disappearing into the folds of his eyelids. His pearly whites shone with the imperfection of one crooked front tooth that Suga thought made Jimin more human than the rest. Jimin wiped the sweat off his forehead, happily admiring his handiwork. Suga finally let go of his slouch and laid against the side of Jimin’s bed, back firmly against the overhanging comforter. He turned his head so that his cheek lay on the cool sheet. His eyes drooped in content.

“This bed feels good…” Suga let out a sigh of longing.

“I’ll loan it to you. Before that though, you can borrow some of my pajamas.” Jimin tossed a folded collared pink silken nightshirt onto Suga’s lap. Suga picked it up with a disgusted glare. “You don’t have very good taste, Jimin-sshi.” He felt the shiny pink silk cloth with his thumb and forefinger. This would sell for a lot…

Suga voiced his concerns to his new acquaintance. “Do you really sleep in this thing?” Jimin nodded. “Of course.”

Oh. So Jimin wasn’t playing a joke on him. Suga honestly felt that he didn’t do anything to deserve this amazing hospitality from his host. Stitching up his wounds for him and giving up his bed and clothes was something nobody in their right mind would do for a hostage like him, Suga thought. This went way beyond what a regular person would do for a total stranger. Suga knew from that point on that he had found a kindred spirit – probably the only one he would ever encounter in his lifetime. It was hard to find good to honest people nowadays, and Suga knew how to appreciate good things. He looked over to Jimin, pulling the pink silk nightshirt over his good shoulder. “Hey.”

Jimin looked over with a questioning look and a slight smile. He thought he saw Suga’s dark ashen eyes soften a little to a pale grey.

“Thanks.”

Suga tilted his head, the corners of his lips slightly lifting to form a warm nonverbal expression of content, the gums of his teeth showing. _Cute…_ Jimin almost fell over with dizzy shock. _Suga’s face did brighten up when he smiled,_ Jimin thought to himself.

 

_It’s also the first time he said thanks…_

 

* * *

 

 

**_On the news._ **

**\-- _Tonight, in the western district’s correction camp, there was one escapee._ \--**

A faded mugshot of a pale boy with long black hair appeared on the screen. His expression was neutral, but when Jimin reached the downstairs kitchen adjoining the living room, he saw a glimmer of determination in those ashen grey eyes, the same eyes of the boy that secretly lay upstairs snoozing.

_**\--It has been reported that he might have escaped to the outskirts of Ceras.--** _

A series of numbers and letters flashed on the bottom of the screen: VC103221.

_**\--The fugitives still on the loose, so we urge all civilians to pay attention to their surroundings. As you can see, this escapee is equipped with a violence chip. --** _

A picture of the microchip spun lazily on the screen, a red card with spiked white edges with a white V slapped in the middle. The words Violence Chip placed themselves underneath the picture in an abused font.

**_\--The VC is a microchip that is implanted into particularly violent criminals. Please report if you this fugitive anywhere… --_ **

 

Jimin’s mother was watching intently on the corner of the couch. She leaned her arm on the side of the couch, snuggling into her brown turtleneck sweater. “He’s so young. How did he get designated with a VC?” She sighed nonchalantly and switched the channel.

Jimin took a piece of bread, held it to his nose, and sniffed it. Suga should like sweet bread. Speaking of Suga… a VC? What the _hell_ did that guy do?

Jimin grabbed a plate from the dishwasher and began to stack the food on his plate, making sure to get a variety just in case Suga didn’t like something and would prefer another item. “Mom, sorry. I still have homework, so I’m going to my room the eat.”

Jimin’s mom peeked her head over that backside of the couch, light brown hair wrapped up in a low ponytail, as she watched her child slowly tread up the steps. She shrugged to herself and turned back to the TV screen.

Jimin’s thoughts swirled in his head in a turmoil. His vision flashed to Suga. _Bullet wounds. Blood. VC. Ash coloured eyes._

He turned the doorknob.

_This intruder could destroy my entire world…_

Suga had changed into the nightshirt Jimin had given him and was lying down on the bed, but got up in a flash when he finally opened his eyes and saw the food. He touched the glass of juice first and gulped it down without hesitation. Jimin looked at him, took a deep breath, and spoke.

“VC103221.”

Suga looked at him questioningly, wariness showing up in his eyes. He gripped the glass in his hands tightly, anticipating what was to came next. Jimin continued, but not in the way that Suga was expected. “It was a _huuuge_ caption on the LCD! You’re famous, Suga-sshi. You looked like you took a mugshot half asleep.”

Suga smirked as Jimin set the tray of food in front of him. He accepted it gratefully. “The real me is _waaaay_ cooler than the one on TV,” he copied Jimin’s emphasis as he stared at the food in front of him, not knowing where to start. He picked up the spoon, scooping some rice and curry onto it, and slowly brought it to his mouth. The smell made his eyes water; he hadn't had actual food in god knows how far into the past. It wasn't long before all the nourishments were gone, and Suga licked the spoon clean. Suga watch as Jimin paced around the room, starting to get worked up in a frenzy. 

“But people without IDs are assumed intruders, and will be thoroughly searched!” Jimin was slightly panicking. He was panicking a lot, actually. His steps were light on the wooden floor, the painted industrial white room glaringly bright against his red eyes. “The system’s activated throughout the city. You might not be able to escape.”

Jimin heard the clink of metal on tooth. He looked up at Suga on his bed, sharp feline-like teeth stabbing the spoon and slightly denting it. Jimin never knew that it was possible until now, staring mesmerized at Suga’s sharp eyes. The more time he spent around this person, the more his original way of thought became skewed and unreal. Suga put the spoon down.

“That’s not confirmed.”

Suga unbuttoned the top of his collared nightshirt. “This city was made to trap you; brainwash you.” He snorted displeasingly. “Everyone thinks that this wretched city is perfect.”

“But- I don’t think that way…”

Suga looked at Jimin standing in the middle of the room. “Oh?”

“I never thought that this city was perfect.” Jimin stood defiantly, looking Suga in the eye. Suga was shocked. Jimin was more intelligent about the system than he at first thought. But his decision about housing a fugitive? That was another story.

“You really are weird.”

Jimin sat on the side of the bed. “Really?”

“This shouldn’t be the words of a genius who was raised with utmost care.” Suga reprimanded, eyes narrowing. “Besides, you hide people with VC’s and don’t report them. If you’re found out, the situation will become very severe.”

Jimin tilted his head to the side in the most nonchalant way. “Yeah, that would be bad,” he answered with a pondering voice. His innocence was overwhelming to the other, but there was something about Jimin that made Suga pause and wonder if he was actually for real. 

Suga snatched Jimin’s arm and shook him, hard. “Are you sure your brain’s working?!” Jimin looked at him, puzzled. Suga went on to explain.

“What happened to you has nothing to do with me. But if things become difficult for you, I’ll feel real guilty. It’ll be like I did something horrible – “

“ –you have a heavy conscience,” Jimin commented casually, wrist still in Suga’s loose hold. Suga huffed, looking down. He shared some of his own insight to Jimin. “Ever since I was small, my mother taught me not to make things difficult for other people.”

Jimin deadpanned. “So... do you want to leave?” He asked. Suga shook his head, trying to grasp the right words.

“Uh-that’s ok. I- there’s still a typhoon outside, and I-I don’t really want to be caught up in it-” A bead of sweat trickled its way down Suga’s neck as he struggled to answer Jimin’s question.

“You’re so contradictory,” Jimin said, laughing delightedly. Suga lifted his index finger up cockily. “People must adapt to different situations. That’s what my dad said.”

Jimin chuckled and looked up at the ceiling. “Suga?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you get into Ceras?”

Suga let go of Jimin’s warm hand and pulled the covers over his shoulders, so that all one could see of him was his head. “It’s a secret,” he whispered.

Jimin hopped onto the bed. “Is there something you can’t talk about?”

Suga threw the covers over himself and flopped on the bed, head burrowed underneath the blankets. “Are you able to forget everything you hear? Can you pretend that you didn’t ask anything?”

Jimin stayed silent.

“You can’t do it, right? Then don’t ask. As for me, I definitely won’t talk about your business.”

Jimin looked over to the mass of black hair hidden underneath the comforter. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Suga shifted the covers down, laying his head on the pillow. “About you opening the window and screaming out loud.” Jimin stilled, mouth opening and closing like a fish, a slight blush gracing his cheeks. Suga was snorting with laughter. “You shocked me! I was hiding in the building and thinking about what to do when I noticed that you opened the window and stuck your face out.”

Jimin shifted on the side of the bed. _He was seen!?_  

“ _W-_ wait a minute!” He called out to Suga.

“While I was watching you, you screamed out loud and scared the hell outta me. Shouting out loud with that kind of face–"

“ –Shut up!” Jimin lunged for Suga, beyond embarrassed. He barely touched the covers next to Suga’s head when he was suddenly tossed up in the air; both his arms secured above his head by a strong bony hand, his torso held in-between a skinny pair of legs. Jimin felt the cold metal tip of a spoon on the left side of his neck, slightly being pressed in by Suga’s strong grip.

“If this was a dagger, you wouldn’t be breathing.”

Jimin looked up at Suga’s dark smirk dazedly. Suga’s long black hair tickled Jimin’s forehead, nose touching the tip of Jimin’s. 

“Wow!”

“Huh?” Suga looked down at Jimin underneath him, thoroughly confused.

Jimin stared wide-eyed at Suga in awe. “Which nerves did you suppress? How did you do that? You immobilized me so easily!”

Suga glared at Jimin for a second before sighing and sinking down on top of Jimin to encase him in a lazy embrace. Jimin let out a huff of air when Suga suddenly laid all his body weight on top of his.

“You’re really weird,” Suga murmured into Jimin’s soft brown hair, the scent of peach soap invading his senses and making him dizzy. “Absolutely, super-duper, bat-shit crazy.”

Jimin took in Suga’s presence. The musky smell of fresh packed dirt had also invaded Jimin’s own senses –something foreign, but at the same time familiar and nice. If only he knew that Suga was also basking in the other's presence. He brought a hand to the back of Suga’s neck, feeling for tempurature. It was uncomfortably hot, especially since Suga’s hands, gripping one of his own, were as cold as ice.

“You have a fever,” Jimin said, hugging Suga tightly. “You should take some antibiotics.”

Suga nuzzled Jimin’s hair tiredly. “No thanks, I’d rather sleep…”

“But – “ Jimin protested. Suga wrapped an arm around Jimin’s neck, cradling his head.

“Living people sure are warm…”

Jimin looked at Suga. He had dozed off, his eyebrows furrowed. He looks troubled, Jimin thought to himself. Jimin reached out and touched the spot right in the middle of the crease. Suga’s eyebrows slowly unknitted, his fitful sleep becoming calm and even. Smiling, Jimin closed his eyes.

 

The next day, Suga had already disappeared from the room. 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

**4 years after –**

 

“Jimin!”

Jimin looked over from where he was organizing the watering schedules of the perennial plants. He still held the same hairstyle and look – an oversized button down dress shirt with long sleeves that he could hide his hands in. He was 16 now, and capable of landing a job within the system. “Is there something wrong, Yamashi-sshi?”

“Come here for a second.” The aforementioned man waved Jimin over to where he was sitting at the monitors. He pointed at one of the screens. “There’s this walking droid that looks a little weird.”

“Weird?”

“Look.”

Jimin leaned his head in a little closer to the monitor. “Look…” There was a spazzed out droid standing still in front of the screen. Jimin tapped his coworker on the shoulder.

“Please zoom in a little.”

“Okay.”

Yamashi clicked a few buttons, closing all the other monitors so only the one with the dead-eyed droid was left on the screen. Through the static, Jimin looked left to the droid. There was a park bench there, and behind it bushes. But as Jimin led his gaze down to the feet of the bench…

“There are... Feet?”

The black soles of a man’s workshoes were attached to the man’s pant-clad legs. Yamashi noticed it seconds after Jimin. He scrolled his mouse to the feet. “Is he sleeping? But there was nobody there thirty minutes ago...”

Jimin placed a hand on the back of Yamashi’s chair. “Does he have any life signs?”

“How do you check?” Yamashi looked over to Jimin.

Jimin pointed at the droid. “Please set the walking droid’s sensors to the max.”

“Ah, okay.”

Yamashi entered the droids system and pointed the life sensors at the feet. His eyes widened as he looked over the stats. “Ox-oxygen intake and temperature are both detected as zero, life signs are null…”

Black flashed across Jimin’s vision before he sprinted to the door. “I’ll go check it out!” He yelled to Yamashi.

“Ah, I’ll go too!” Yamashi said, grabbing his cloak.

Jimin pressed his keycard to the door, sliding it aside. The work building was in the middle of the park, and he started to head towards the coordinates that he saw on the monitor. As he ran along the brick pavement, he looked into the trees and shrubs. Nothing was off.

He finally saw the backside of the walking droid that was on the monitor. “Um, walking droid-sshi?” He called out to the robot. It turned around, a shocked face still projected on its round head. Jimin approached it, and when it moved away, he was met by a horrendous sight. He reeled in shock. An old man with holes in his face lay slumped over the side of the foliage, eyes sunken into his head, mouth open in an almost terrified scream.

“Jimin!” Yamashi finally reached him. “What the hell is goin’ on?” He saw the dead body and almost lost his lunch. “Woah!”

Jimin stood in front of the body, already looking for resolutions to the problem. “Yamashi-sshi, please hurry and contact the medical department.”

Yamashi struggled out of his reverie and took something out of his pocket. “Ah, got it!” He punched in a code and waited for it to ring. “Hello? I’m one of the caretakers of the park…”

Jimin tuned Yamashi out and reached down to touch the corpse. He put two fingers on its forehead and inserted his thumb in the corpses’ nose. It came out blood-encrusted and cold. He sighed. Definitely dead. He put his fingers on the open eyes of the corpse, wanting to finally put it to rest. But when he pushed, the eyelids stayed steadfastly open. The corpses’ head rolled back, exposing riddled holes in the neck.

He’s only been dead for a few minutes, Jimin thought to himself. And yet the corpse is already in rigor mortis!?

 

\-----------------------

 

“The corpse went into rigor mortis within ten minutes of its death and it slowly began to loosen up?!” Jung Hoseok grabbed his abused tea and drank it all down in one gulp. “That’s impossible!”

He set the drink down loudly. “Even in the height of summer, hardening takes at least 30 hours!”

Jimin nodded. “Under normal circumstances, it should take thirty-six hours in summer, and three to seven days in the winter. For the current weather pattern we’re having now, it should take around sixty hours…” Jimin sipped his lavender tea. “No matter how I look at it, it isn’t possible.”

Jimin held the drink in both hands and sniffed it contentedly, looking out the window at the pink clouds dying into the sunset. “The external factors of temperature and moistness shouldn’t have led to this result.” He licked his cup. One of the waitresses at the café looked at him and bought her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Then it has to be internal factors –“

“– Hey, Jimin.” Hoseok spun on the stool to face Jimin. “Four years ago… Why didn’t you go to the special institute?”

“ _Hoseok-hyung._ Why’re you bringing this up?”

“I want to know, Jiminie,” Hoseok whined. “I went, why didn’t you?”

Jimin set his cup down and broke apart the apple pastry in front of him. He stayed silent for a while as he pondered the question. “I was reevaluated as not being able to enter the institute and my acceptance was revoked.” He bit into the steaming bread. “It’s not that I didn’t go, it’s because I couldn’t go.”

Chewing, Jimin reached for his purple tea. “But now, as the park manager, I’m working to pay for school, and I’m learning the Labor Department’s techniques.” He swallowed the pastry and took a sip. “That’s the current situation.”

“So why did you lose your qualifications?” Hoseok piped up, pestering Jimin.

Jimin licked off the excess sugar off his thumb, staring at the mesmerizing swirls in the chestnut table. “I don’t want talk about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a sneak peek because I wrote part of this last year, and never finished... BTW this is 1/3 of the first chapter, stay tuned for updates!

**Author's Note:**

> Resources:
> 
> "Lie" - Park Jimin  
> "Omelas and Those That Walked Away" - Ursula K. Le Guin  
> "NO. 6" - Asano Atsuko


End file.
